


The Spirit

by iiSolari



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29919975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iiSolari/pseuds/iiSolari
Summary: A runaway slave crosses paths with a Padawan Obi-Wan and his Jedi master.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	The Spirit

Cyrril could feel her heart hammering in her chest and echoing through her ears as she tucked herself away in a place where no one could find her. She could hear the commotion she had started, the Huttanese shouting as they scouted for her in any nook and cranny that they could possibly think of--aside from the one that she had managed to fold her body into.

It was almost disheartening, having to cram herself away underneath a merchant stand. Luckily the tenant had gone, they had already been scared off when she had initially escaped and murdered her handlers. She remained quiet, keeping the gasp she wanted to emit internalized as she heard a series of footsteps just inches to her left. She peered through whatever points of vision she had underneath the kiosk, watching as the remainder of the slavers finally moved on from the area.

It was time. She had already planted the explosives in scrap piles she was meant to sift through, having been sold off for labor purposes just hours before. No one would go looking for them, not with her on the run. She was a high priority, having been paid quite a sum of money for her arrival on Tattooine.

She manages to wiggle her body out from the cabinet, careful not to make any noise as she rolls out onto the sands. Feeling the warmth in between her fingers, she straightens herself out to a low crouch once she gains her footing.

She had to focus, put her fear aside in order to see herself free. After a year of serving others for vile purposes, she would rather die than be back in this situation. The situation of other people controlling whether she gets to live, or gets to suffer for their own transgressions.

To see herself a free woman, she had to do one more deed to guarantee it. To ensure that these people would not track her down.

So she scurries behind structures that cover her small frame, further and further away from where her post had originally been. She, at one point, ends up nearby a propped Electrostaff meant for someone who had quickly departed without it. So she observed her surroundings, seeing if any of the moving bodies could spot her immediately, before swiping it with her right hand and carrying it out of sightlines with her.

Over the dunes she went, the facility she was sold to disappearing behind the environment. Tucked inside her ragged tan robes, she withdrew a crudely put-together detonator that had been programmed by her to detonate the explosives hidden inside.

She exhaled, her thumb stroking the side of the remote detonator thoughtfully as if she were saying goodbye to it. She tightened her eyes, crouching low behind the dunes so that she could defend herself from the sand that would ripple outwards. Three, two, one.

Her finger presses the detonation, and the explosion rings in her ears. Despite the distance she put between herself and facility, she managed to still feel the impact of the destruction she had wrought.

The sand caresses her skin as it scatters from the site that was now bathed in flame, and once it settled she straightened her stance. She counted for a few seconds, mentally prepping herself for the overwhelming emotion she knew that she would have.

Overwhelming, it was. Her eyes opened up, the blue and amber hues settling on the blaze that persisted in the distance. Despite the destruction, and the negative feeling that she could feel tugging in her stomach, there was a certain weight that had lifted off of her shoulders.

At last, she had done it. There was no one there, not anymore. No one to control her, dictate her life. Her purpose.

She had her own will again.

She closed her eyes once more, to relish in the freedom that dawned on her. Her breathing shook, in relief rather than fear, a tear managing it’s way down the side of her face.

“Who are you?” a voice spoke up, causing her to immediately whip around and activate the Electrostaff that she had swiped on her way out.

There were two men standing there when she had turned, both in robes that resembled something familiar to her. Something in the back of her head was telling her to stand down, but everything else that followed told her to persist. Keep her guard up, because who knew who these strangers were.

One of them, the taller of the two with brown hair that was pulled back, took one step forward with his hands in front of him to show that he had not been armed. “We are not here to harm you, Miss.”

“And how am I supposed to believe you?” Cyrril snapped, taking another step back when he had stepped forward. She had thought that maybe they had been called in, to search for her. To arrest her, make her suffer for everything that she had done only seconds after the deed had been committed.

“Because we would have apprehended you if we were,” the other responded. The reply was curt, but his accented voice was kind. Assuring.

The brown-haired man parted his lips to inhale sharply, realizing that he would have to make himself acquainted before she would lower the weapon. So he does, tucking his hands back underneath the tan poncho that hung around his torso. “Please, allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. This is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Jedis?

Cyrril seemed to loosen up at the idea, deactivating the Electrostaff before lowering it. “What are the Jedi doing on Tattooine,,,?”

“We did not land here with intention,” Obi-Wan explained, folding his hands inside of his brown cloak sleeves. “Our ship is in need of repairs.”

He paused for a moment, nodding his head over to the black smoke that was raising into the clouds. “Were you the one responsible for this?”

Cyrril debates on whether or not to be honest with them, not knowing how far she could trust these Jedi. Everyone, even Jedi, could have some form of agenda. But these two... something about them felt pure. Two beings, meant to do good in this world, is what her instincts could make out. So she nods her head, her pixie-cut hair disheveled from her struggles.

“What happened there?” Qui-Gon questioned, his eyes curious about the stranger that they had just come across.

“I... I set myself free,” Cyrril explained. “I murdered to do it, but... I wasn’t going to let someone else make my decisions for the betterment of themselves.”

“You were a slave?” Obi-Wan followed up, earning another quiet nod from Cyrril.

He watched, as her two-toned eyes dropped to stare at the sand in front of her, almost like she had been ashamed of her deeds now that she had told someone about them.

Qui-Gon seems to ponder in silence, hand stroking his beard as he observed the stranger with the same curious eyes. “Do you have anywhere else to go? Somewhere to call a home?”

Cyrril winces almost, and the two Jedi took note of the reaction. “No.”

“...Very well. Come along,” Qui-Gon offered, earning a stare from Obi-Wan.

They weren’t meant to be on this planet, not for very long. The idea of taking in someone that they had just met wasn’t something that settled well just yet to the Padawan, but it was something that he would not argue against either. Cyrril had obviously fought her way to her freedom, and it was only right that they would help her start her new life.

Even if it meant just dropping her at the nearest inhabited planet.

Cyrril’s gaze lifts when Qui-Gon prompted her along, her face visibly confused at the request. But she trudges along, almost afraid to decline their offer in case something else were to happen to her.

“What is your name?” Obi-Wan inquired once she stopped at his side, Qui-Gon leading them to a chrome ship that Cyrril could see on the horizon line.

She takes a moment, as if she had to think of the answer. “Cyrril. Cyrril Tel-Naka.”

“Everything is going to be alright, Cyrril,” he comforted, picking up on her anxiety about the situation that she had found herself in. “My Master and I will make sure that you make it off of this planet in one piece.”

“I...” she sighed. “For some reason, I trust that sentiment, Obi-Wan. I cannot thank you both enough, for allowing my company.”

“You are most welcome,” Qui-Gon responded kindly, as they drew closer and closer to the ship. “First, we need to make the preparations in order to obtain the parts needed for our ship. Cyrril, you are welcome to come along with me and our Gungan friend on the ship. Maybe your knowledge of the land will assist us in finding what we need.”

He turned to face Obi-Wan and Cyrril fully, pausing in his tracks. “Obi-Wan, I need you to stay with the ship and ensure the safety of those on board.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan agreed, his blue eyes serious once he was given a task.

Qui-Gon turned back around, the ship now close to the three of them. “Fantastic. We all have our roles. I suspect that we will all be alright.”

As strange as the situation may be, something in Cyrril believed that statement to be true. These men that had stumbled upon her, in the midst of her discourse, she could feel their honest intentions. That they had really not meant to harm her, only to push her in a direction that was favorable.

And she would be a fool to deny that sort of opportunity.


End file.
